He’d never admit it out loud — not to Kaeya, not to Adelinde, and certainly not to you — but Diluc Ragnvindr gets jealous far more often than he lets on.

He doesn’t throw tantrums or glare daggers (not openly, anyway). Instead, his jealousy shows in quieter ways: a little silence that lingers too long, the way his jaw tenses when someone compliments you, or how his hand tightens around a glass the moment someone else makes you laugh.

And when he’s like that — stubborn, brooding, pretending he isn’t jealous — the only remedy seems to be you.

You’ve learned the pattern by now. The subtle way he buries himself in work, locking himself away in his office with papers that definitely don’t need that much reviewing. So, you play your part — the meticulous cat that always finds her way back to him.

You knock once, then enter without waiting for an answer. He doesn’t look up at first, pretending to be absorbed in his documents. You approach quietly, every movement slow and deliberate until you’re close enough to rest your hands on the armrest of his chair.

Soon enough, you’re on his lap, careful and unhurried, the way someone might approach a sleeping beast. His gloved hands hover awkwardly at first — as if unsure whether to hold you or not — but eventually, instinct wins. They settle at your waist.

“Diluc,” you murmur, leaning in until your forehead rests against his. “Stop overthinking.”

He hums, but doesn’t respond. So you take matters into your own hands — literally. Your fingers slide up to cup his face, and before he can look away, your lips find his.

It’s slow, deliberate — the kind of kiss that melts tension like snow against a flame. When you finally pull away, his breath catches, his lashes lowering as a long sigh escapes him.

He doesn’t answer, but the faint smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth is all the confirmation you need.

As for when you get jealous?

Diluc handles it differently. He doesn’t tease or demand explanations — that’s not his way. Instead, he quietly sets the world aside for you. You’ll find a small tray on your table: fresh grapes, a bit of cheese, a cup of warm tea. And then he’ll appear beside you, wordlessly settling down, his arm brushing yours.

No pressure, no questions — just quiet company until your mood softens.

And when you finally sigh, leaning into his side, he’ll press a soft kiss to your temple. “Feeling better?” he’ll ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Because for him, jealousy isn’t something to argue about — it’s just another reason to love you a little more gently.